


A Step of Courage

by orphan_account



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 14:28:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11187042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He looked devastated and like he was about to punch him when I bolted up out of my chair and hissed, “Hey, dickwad, maybe you should learn how to treat a fellow classmate!” I don’t know why I did it. I really can’t say. I was sarcastic and witty but way to timid to talk down at a bully. He took two quick steps before he towered me. Damn my height. Damn is six foot fourness in height.





	1. Frankie

He was sitting in the back, alone, as per usual. His dark aura emanated from him in a warning for people to leave him alone as he glowered at anyone who glanced at him. He was etching away at something, most likely creating a new piece of music. From what I knew of him, he was a guitarist and fairly damn good at playing.

He also had about three books piled on his desk, and they definitely weren't school books. He was a bookworm, like me, which also explained his tattoo "bookworm" across his fingers. His favorite books were Harry Potter, and I was more than fine with that. I read so many Harry Potter fanfictions just for the hell of it-the good and the bad.

I sat in the back as well, but was two seats to his left. For some reason, he never glared at me, but I think that was because he never noticed me sneaking peaks at him. I don't think he even knew I existed. I always wanted to try and talk to him, but I never have had the courage. He may not know that I exist, but I knew for damn sure that he existed. But the Populars knew I existed. They knew that very well. And they also knew very well that he existed.

Most people who were in the middle and who were usually left alone steered clear away from him, along with the other loners. However, the Populars always decided to grace him with their presence. Whether it was to shove him in a locker, call him foul names that would make a sailor feel ashamed, or to poor his hot coffee on his head.

Well, I actually don't know about the last one. The Populars always fancied to poor my coffee on my head. So, I started ordering it lukewarm. Lukewarm coffee is better than no coffee.

Anyway...back to him, the guy sitting two seats to my right and reasons why I've never had the courage to talk to him. Reason one: he had a scary aura that made a timid person nervous, namely me. Reason two: he was hot. Like the stereotypical girly oh-my-fucking-god-that-body-is-so-fine-I-might-shit-my-pants squeal.

Let me explain.

He is five foot four, which is fine with me 'cause I like the shorties, has the most beautiful hazel eyes that I have ever seen, and has a scorpion tattoo on his neck. Though that's not his only tattoo, and let me tell you, I'm a sucker for tattoos. His hands and arms are almost completely covered with them. He also has some nice muscles, though not buff, he can definitely hold his own in a fight.

His hair was short and inky black with a flare of red towards the back of his head on the right side. His lips are full and his face young (why wouldn't it be? He's around my age). He had a lip piercing on his lower lip on the left side and a nose piercing on the right. He also had these small gages in his ears that surprisingly didn't look bad.

For clothes he wore black jeans and skinny jeans with a black Tee or band shirt with a Misfits sweatshirt. On his feet was the most tattered, battered, beaten, abused, dirty, well-worn, comfortable looking red converse I had ever seen.

He had height on me, but then just about everyone did, but to me he was still a shorty, even if the average male height was five foot eight (shocking). I was four foot ten with pale skin and platinum hair that was cut real short. I liked it better that way, where it was never in my face and no more than an inch out. It went in every direction, almost spiky, but soft.

My eyes were a smoky green-blue color that I loved. They were my Mother's eyes, my Papa always told me. She died from a car accident when I was two months old, but Papa married to a lovely redhead named Rachel that I've known as my mom since I was four. She may not be my biological mom, but she was still my mom. I love her to death. She always helped me through everything and eventually they decided that I needed a brother, because when I was seven out popped the most adorable little boy I have ever known. Of course I want to kill him most days, but still.

My parents always pushed me to do my best in class, and I did. I was a straight A student and would die if I did anything lower than my best, which is still an A. I'm a total lazy ass, but school is as easy as breaking a pencil. My favorite classes would have to be music and art, and I know that they are his as well.

I notice how when he walks into those classrooms and the teacher starts talking, he sits straight in his chair, listens, and a spark comes to life in his eyes. He doesn't do that in any of his classes except for those two. In Math, Science, English, History, and Economics he just completely shuts down and ignores the world, save for his glares. We have practically the same schedule except for fourth hour, but that's because I have German and I don't know what his class is.

I looked at the clock nervously. Any minute now the door would burst open and Richard would saunter in. He was one of the Populars, and on the school football team. He wasn't a jock, that would just be too cliché. He just loved to pick on the loners, mainly me, him, and a couple others.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Speak of the Devil and here he comes.

The door hit the wall with a loud smack and there he stood. Around him were his bitches, as I liked to call them, practically drooling over his appearance. I'm not going to lie, he wasn't hard on the eyes, but all his cruelty and meanness just washed his looks away. He was ugly in my eyes.

He walked quickly to the back of the room with a stealth that told me he was a predator and that I should hide from view. I quickly bowed my head and hid my face from view by pulling my Green Day Hoodie over my face. Not seeing me, Richard looked for his second favorite victim. "What are you working on, Shit Face?" he growled at him, pulling the piece of paper he was working on and examined it. Sure enough, it was music.

"Give it back," he snarled in response, standing up. I felt really guilty now. If I had just shown my face his music wouldn't be in peril.

"Now that's no way to treat a fellow classmate," Richard chastised. "Maybe this should teach you some manners," he smirked cruelly and ripped his paper to shreds.

He looked devastated and like he was about to punch him when I bolted up out of my chair and hissed, "Hey, dickwad, maybe you should learn how to treat a fellow classmate!" I don't know why I did it. I really can't say. I was sarcastic and witty but way to timid to talk down at a bully. He took two quick steps before he towered me. Damn my height. Damn is six foot fourness in height.

I don't care if that isn't a word. It is now.

I involuntarily flinched as his face turned into a cruel snarl and he growled, "What did you just say, bitch?"

Taking a deep breath and standing up as tall as I possibly could, I grabbed onto my last shreds of bravery and said, "The bitches are the girls behind you, asshole." I smirked in triumph when I saw his face redden with anger. Everyone was staring at us.

"Interesting name, by the way, Dick Head. Hey, I'm not calling you names. It IS your name, right? Dick? Haven't you heard the rumors? They say you like to pin every girl around here. Your name should be Dick Dick. Dick One for the way you treat people, and Dick Two for the one down south," I ended, victory clear in my voice as he was now fuming and beet red. The girls behind him were sputtering and gasping in shock while others were smiling at me or looking at me with worry at my outburst.

"You-you fucking whore!" he shouted, seemingly the only thing he could think of.

I laughed harshly. "I'm the whore? Why don't you go look in the mirror, Dickwad. Now leave me and Frank alone," I spat, my hands clenched in fists. Frank looked at me in surprise from the floor, where he was picking up the pieces of his shredded music. His face paled in horror and then turned into a hard glare. Well damn, there goes my no-glare record.

"Is there a problem Miss Greene?" Mr. Fredricks asked as he walked into the classroom, immediately taking in the situation. Frank stealthily headed out along the walls, no longer having a need to be in class.

"No, Mr. Fredricks, we were just having a heated debate," I lied through clenched teeth. And then for the very first time, I asked a lie, "May I be excused? I don't feel well." When he nodded I grabbed my backpack that I hadn't bothered to unpack and rushed out the door.

"What did I just do?" I kept muttering to myself as I rushed to the library, my studded converse squeaking on the freshly waxed tile floor. I was still muttering it as I sank down into my favorite spot. It was secluded and in between two giant bookshelves at the back wall and was just the right size for me to sit comfortably while being hidden from view.

"You just made our lives worse, you moron," a husky voice growled next to me. I stifled a scream as I looked up to find Frank towering over me.

"I know that but I was sick of it. Besides, you should be thanking me," I bitterly said.

"Thanking you? Thanking you for what, exactly? A ticket to be beat up by eight football players after school? I can defend myself, thanks," he snorted sarcastically.

"No, from saving your ass from another suspension. Only a couple more and you're outta here," I hissed in reply.

"How do you know that?" he asked, startled, all harshness gone.

"Oh-umm...I...counted. I have a weird thing with numbers and I can't help but notice them," I muttered in response, my cheeks flushing and I looked down in embarrassment.

"That's not creepy..." he snorted a chuckle. I stood up, about to give him a piece of my mind

"Hey! It's not funny! I'm serious! I can't help the numbers thing! You have been suspended ten times, Jessica Walters has to chew exactly seven pieces of gum each day, Gerard Way spends on average three hours a day drawing and writing music, Mikey Way spends exactly one dollar and sixty four cents on lunch every day, you get picked on once in every class except for maybe fourth hour and into fights after school, and I get bullied nine times a day!" I defended myself, and angry spark lighting in my eyes as Frank doubled over laughing.

"That has to be the funniest thing I have ever heard!" he guffawed, wiping away fake tears. "Do you know how stalkerish you sound?"

"I am not a stalker!" I screeched, earning a loud shush from the librarian. Frank snickered at me and earning himself a good punch in the arm.

"Damn, Sian, you don't punch like a girl," he complained, earning himself yet another punch while I snickered.

"Wait, how did you know my name?" I asked, no longer laughing.

"How do you know mine?" he retorted.

"Touché, but I thought you didn't know I existed," I replied slowly. "You have never glared at me and you glare at everyone."

"I've always known you existed...and how you stare at me," he smirked as my eyes widened in shock. "I knew babes couldn't resist my charm," he said proudly, posing a ridiculous girly pose with his hands on his hips and his chest puffed out.

"Ah! And you just decided to tell me that now?" I dramatically asked, feigning hurt and putting my hand on my forehead with the other on my heart.

"Of course," he replied smugly. I playfully smacked him in the chest. He stared at me curiously and I began to think.

"Look, I'm sorry I stood up for you. Next time I won't, okay?" I said seriously, looking at the floor.

"No, it's me who should be sorry... thanks for saving my ass," he said quickly, putting his hands on my shoulders. "Sian?"

"Yeah?" I asked in reply, a little nervous at the sudden change of atmosphere and that he was touching me. And let me tell you, I swear there were sparks.

"There's...something...that I've wanted to do for a long time..." he breathed, his face inching towards mine.

"What is it?" I murmured back, slowly tilting my head up to look into his hard hazel eyes. Not being able to go slow anymore, he quickly wrapped one arm around my waist and put his other hand at the back of my neck and kissed me.

I was so shocked that I just stood there for a few moments like an idiot before responding. Who would have thought that he liked me?

It was so unbearably sweet that I almost wanted to cry in happiness. Screw the bullies, screw the fact that Frank had problems, screw class. This was my first kiss and I was going to damn well enjoy it.

When we finally broke apart I was panting and he was breathing heavily. Resting his forehead on mine he said, "Your eyes are absolutely beautiful. Did you know that? The perfect storm."

I smiled, "Thank you...Frankie," I couldn't help but add. He growled playfully. "What? You don't like your nickname?" I asked him innocently.

"It sounds like a dog's name," he growled sexily.

"And your point is...?" I trailed off, grabbing my backpack and going around the corner, sauntering the whole way. I peeked back behind to see him gaping.

"It's a dog's name!"

"Aww...poor Frankie," I teased but when I saw him begin to take a step towards me my eyes went as round as plates and I began to sprint towards the door, shrieking all the while.

After chasing me around for a good ten minutes, I ran into a small, teeny, tiny, itsy, bitsy problem: Richard. And he was not happy. At all.

"Sian!" Frank screeched to a halt as he realized the problem. Richard was now holding me by my throat up against the lockers, swearing at me profusely. Until a fist collided into his face. I fell to the ground, gasping. "That's my girlfriend, you son of a bitch!" Frank growled darkly, the expression on his face terrifying. I had even peed my pants a little. And let me tell you, that voice was very, extremely, enormously, unbearably sexy.

Richard let out a frustrated cry and left, deeming this a fight he couldn't win. He had no goons to back him up. He was just happy because there was no one to witness his defeat.

"Are you okay?" Frank asked me worriedly.

"Yeah, of course," I replied, smiling weakly. Then a real smile came onto my face. "That voice you used when you punched Richard was verrry sexy, Frankie," I giggled, ruffling his short hair.

"Is that so?" he asked in his dark voice and I giggled and he soon joined.

I can't say that we lived happily ever after because that kind of stuff just doesn't happen. After all, we've only been dating for about three months. Frankie's work has improved (with my help of course...and encouragement...okay, I made him do it), and he has created a couple songs for me that I absolutely adore. We haven't had a bully problem since the day we kissed, and we loners (a.k.a Gerard, Mikey, Frank, Gerard's girlfriend Eloise, and a couple others) have become friends. Frank and I have our problems, but we'll work through them. Besides, we are working on a band.


	2. Geebee

Reasons, reasons, reasons. Excuses, excuses, excuses. That's all I ever hear. Lies after lies. That's all these girls ever do. Reasons why they didn't show up to something important. Excuses as to why they didn't follow through a promise. Lie they told to and about each other.

My only problem? I was in the middle of the whole ordeal. And to be honest? I didn't want any part of it. I hated being Popular. I didn't want the title, it just happened. I want to be me.

If I could, I would wear black skinny jeans, a funky band tee or tank top, my studded belt, an oversized Three Days Grace sweatshirt, and my favorite beaten, well-worn, and incredibly comfy green converse. Green was my favorite color.

But that right there just wasn't going to happen. If I didn't follow the rules of being popular, I would be cast out. And those cast out weren't talked to by anyone. They weren't bullied either, which would actually be better, because then at least someone knows you exist and acknowledges it instead of everyone whispering and giggling about you.

Right now I was in the library, focusing on my poetry homework that I just did not understand. It was Free Period and I was trying to at least get a C for Poetry but miserably failing at understanding the material.

In front of me sat a boy, almost a man, with his back towards me. I knew who he was. He was at the bottom of the food chain but I didn't care.

I discreetly peaked through the curtain of my silky black hair. He was always bullied, day after day, endlessly. It always bothered me but I didn't have the guts to tell my boyfriend to stop. I was five foot exactly and he was six foot four in height.

The guy in front of me was hunched over the table, sketching. His drawings were amazing, I must admit. They were pretty damn fantastic. I knew Art was his absolute favorite class. The way his eyes lit up and how he was completely engrossed in what he was working on was enchanting. In all his other classes, save for Poetry (his second favorite), he was always drawing or writing poetry (a.k.a. a song), completely oblivious as to what was going on. Yet he still always managed to get an A in every class.

I was dying to know what he was drawing. I've only caught glimpses of them before and they looked great but I have never seen a full blown drawing of his.

His hair was clipped short, but not too short, and dyed platinum blonde but I could see his natural inky hair sprouting through. I knew his eyes were hazel from previous glares he has sent my way before and he always had a 2HB pencil stuck behind his left ear.

He wore faded black skinny jeans, barely held together red converse, an Iron Maiden tee and a studded belt. His poetry/lyrics notebook was stuffed into his pocket and looked like it was about to fall out. I also wanted to know what secrets of his were in there. I've always believed songs, music, and hand drawn artwork displays what the artist is feeling. And I wanted to know what he was feeling.

He was also smart, extremely smart. A nerd and I like nerds. Also shorties-he was five foot seven. Okay...shorter than average guys. I wanted to get to know him, and I had a plan. I was going to ask him for help in Poetry, and I knew he likes that class. But I also really did need help it that class.

All I had to do was grow a pair. Not that I physically could or anything...

Besides, that phrase just doesn't make sense. I mean, seriously, balls are sensitive and weak, so why make them sound tough?

Anyway, back on topic. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and carried my notebook and sorry ass over to where he was sitting.

Standing in front of him rather awkwardly, I asked him nervously, "Would you-would you mind helping me with Poetry class? I'm terrible at it and I know you're excellent at it." Swallowing a lump that had formed in my throat at his glare, I squeaked, "Please?"

"If you're going to copy me, you can fuck off," he snarled. I jumped at his response and paled at his cold expression.

"I-I don't w-want to copy. I-I want h-help," I stuttered. I then took a quick peek at what he was drawing and it was an anime-comic version of Dracula. "I-I like your drawing. It's excellent," I praised, still nervous. But I was serious. The strokes were firm and precise. He knew what he was doing.

But ever so quickly he covered them up. "Fine," he growled, glaring at me, protecting his drawing from my eyes. "But no one hears of this." I nodded vigorously in agreement.

We sat next to each other; the only thing between us was the corner of the table. We had abandoned poetry a long time ago and just talked. I had found out that his parents split up when he was young, he had an amazing voice that I absolutely couldn't get enough of and he recently broke up with someone. By now his hair was at least two inches long with the tips platinum and the rest inky black

Now I was talking about my relationship with Richard the Dickwad: Proud Bully of Our School. "I'm too afraid to. I really don't like him at all but every time I try to break up with him I chicken out. He's intimidating. I know he cheats on me constantly but I have no control," I explained in a dull tone. I didn't want a pity party: I wanted a way out.

"Eloise, so what you need is back up?" he asked.

My eyes brightened. "Exactly, Geebee!" I exclaimed using the nickname I had come up with three weeks ago. It was about two weeks into our daily study sessions that I used it.

"Ugh! Stop calling me that!" he sighed in frustration. "Ellie pooh," he added moments later, giggling. I hit him in the head with a pencil after that.

"Score!" I cheered and then ducked as he threw his pencil at me.

"Do you get it now?" Gerard asked me for what had to be the hundredth time now. He had been helping me with Poetry for about two months now and my grade had improved from a D- to a C. I was proud of that.

"No," I whined. "It doesn't make any sense."

"Eloise! I don't know what to do! I've tried every way I could possibly think of to explain it to you!" he exclaimed in exasperation.

"I know...I think I'm just dumb," I replied in a defeated tone.

"No, you most definitely aren't dumb; your head just works differently," he smirked.

"That's basically the same thing! Ugh, you are so annoying!" I snorted, playfully punching him in the arm.

"Oh, that hurt so much! I think it's going to bruise!" Gee howled dramatically, cradling his arm. "You punch like a girl," he snickered.

"Oh, I can't imagine why," I said sarcastically, rolling my smoky grey eyes and punching him again.

"You know you love me Elliebear," he flirted harmlessly. I usually ignored it or shot him a dirty look but this time I decided to have some fun.

"Oh, baby, you mean you figured it out?" I asked in mock despair.

"I knew you couldn't resist me, cutie pie," he smirked.

"Oh, Geebee, you know me so well," I murmured, giving him a slow, seductive smile as I leaned over the table towards him.

I saw him visibly swallow and I smirked. "And how well do you want me to know you?" he snickered perversely.

"How far to you want to go, Sugar?" I giggled, batting my eyelashes obnoxiously. And then we both burst out laughing. The librarian scowled at us and we quieted down to giggles.

Suddenly, Sian and Frank (I think that's their names) rushed past us, cackling loudly.

"I wonder what that was abou-" I began but didn't finish as my cell rang 'You're Gonna Go Far, Kid' by The Offspring. "Sorry," I murmured to Gerard as I answered.

It was Jessica wanting to know where I was. I lied and she didn't want to go 'there' so she said she'd see me later then hung up. After I hung up I found Gee staring at me strangely. "What?" I asked, immediately worried that I had something embarrassing on my face.

"I know how I can make you understand!" he said excitedly, pulling out his drawing and poetry/music notebooks. My eyes widened in surprise. He was going to let me look inside it? Like actually conquer my thirst to know him?

"You're going to show me?" I breathed, unable to contain my excitement and disbelief.

"Yes, I trust you," he said unwaveringly, boring his eyes into mine.

"Thank you, Gerard. You have no idea how much this means to me," I said sincerely. He merely nodded before he began explaining, showing me how poetry was a painting or drawing. It clicked instantly. I loved every single one of his pieces, especially 'The Sharpest Lives'. My favorite line was Give me a shot to remember.

"Eloise!" Richard thundered, startling the shit out of me and Gee.

"Y-yes, Rich?" I stuttered, unable to hide my fear. "Wha-what happened to your face, honey?" I asked nervously.

"What happened?" he screeched. "What happened was that his friend," he pointed at Gerard, "punched me in the face!"

"I-I'm sorry!" I squeaked, looking down at the ground. By now I was standing up, but I was hunched over. Gerard looked pissed. He probably thought I was weak.

"Besides, what the hell are you doing with this freak!?" he yelled. That made me snap. I could handle him insulting me, but one of my friends? There was no way in fucking hell would I tolerate that.

"Richard. We're through," I said firmly, standing up straight. Gerard and Richard looked at me in surprise.

"What?" Rich spat. "Is it so you can fuck him?"

"No. it's because I'm sick of how you treat people at this school, especially me, and especially my friends," I said coldly. I have never heard this side of me before. "Now. Leave. Me. The fuck. Alone," I growled menacingly, giving him the coldest glare I could manage.

"You dare to-" he began but Gee cut him off.

"I suggest you leave," he spat at him, glaring as well.

Clearly having a bad day and things not working out well for him, Richard left quickly.

"Aww, you know you love me, Elliebear," Gee cooed and I stopped dead in my tracks. I had a sudden daydream where I wanted to grab his collar and kiss him right in front of everybody. I was no longer a Popular, and that was fine with me, so Gerard and I grew closer. But this 'you know you love me' was different than from before. This time it held an actual meaning to me. "Ellie?" he asked, concerned.

"I-I," I stuttered. "I gotta go!" I rushed and fled to the girls' bathroom.

What did that mean? I knew I couldn't possibly love him in a romantic way, could I? I mean, yeah, he's smoking hot, but he was just a friend. Friends don't have daydreams about shoving their tongue down their friend's throat. I was panicking, not knowing what to do. He would want to know what was wrong as soon as I got back. I couldn't tell him that I wanted to kiss him. That would be incredibly embarrassing. I couldn't do that do our relationship.

So instead of going to class I went to the Nurse's Office and told her I wasn't feeling well. She allowed me to go home and I gratefully accepted.

I avoided Gerard for the rest of the week.

It was Monday, and I knew I would be ambushed. I already knew what I was going to do; I had a plan. So instead of walking into Gee's ambush, I marched straight to his locker and waited. When he finally arrived, his look was murderous. "Why the hell have you been avoiding me, Ellie?" he growled.

"I-" I began, but he already started to rant. I smiled slightly and cut him off. I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled his lips to mine.

It most definitely wasn't my first kiss, but it was by far the best I ever had. I felt him wrap his arms around me and tighten, pulling me up into his arms off the ground and I smiled. The tips of my sneakers barely touched the tile floor. He asked for entrance by dragging his tongue across my lower lip and I granted it. He tasted like oranges and a hint of green apple. Hearing a bunch of oohs and awws, I broke away bashfully. "I'm sorry, Geebee," I apologized for my behavior.

He being the pervert he was, he replied, wagging his eyebrows, "Don't be."

"I wasn't apologizing for kissing you, you pervert!" I exclaimed, whacking him upside the head and sprinting down the hallway, earning a few snickers from our audience.

"Hey!" he yelled, chasing after me as I giggled madly.

I am now officially at the bottom of the high school hierarchy, but I am happy with that. I now can wear my favorite clothes without petty fears and I have great new friends: Mikey (Gerards younger brother), Sian and Frank. Gee, Frank, Mikey and a couple others are working on a band with Gee as the lead singer. I go to every single one of their practices along with Sian and we talk about our boyfriend problems while cheering the boys. Yes, Gee and I have problems, but what relationship doesn't, right?

I can also say that I received an A in Poetry, thanks to Geebee.


	3. Mickey

I sat alone in the library. It was my favorite place, way back in the corner, near the Sci-Fi section. It was cozy, secluded, and the table completely hidden from view. But the best part had to be that I could see almost anything that was going on. There was no other spot like it.

I was studying for a test tomorrow, and I can't say it was particularly fun. Hell, when is studying fun? But at least I could watch my crush studying for the same test. It appeared that he was struggling with it, actually. I didn't really need to study for mine but I didn't want to go home. My mom would probably bitch about how horrible the guy she just dumped was when in actuality was a pretty decent guy.

It annoyed the shit out of me. I honestly didn't care if he forgot a minor detail. And her viewpoint on what men should be absolutely pissed me off. She once gave me a whole lecture of how men should be willing to do the three P's. And I can't remember one. It was something along the lines of Provide, Protect, and something else.

To sum it up: men are better than women, women are dependent, and women can't take care of themselves. It just made me so fucking angry! Women ARE independent and CAN take care of themselves and CAN live without a man in their life. Sure, I would like to have a boyfriend, but I don't need one. There's a difference.

I winced and looked down at my now bleeding hand. I was clutching my paper so hard that I gave myself a paper cut. "Fuck," I hissed as the blood trickled. It wasn't so much that it was bleeding badly as much as it stung. Those motherfuckers hurt.

I put my finger in my mouth and instantly tasted the iron taste of blood. I immediately wanted to retch. Blood had never tasted good to me. In fact, it tasted awful. I never understood how it could be sweet like in those overly, gag-worthy, retched romantic vampire novels. I preferred the classics like Dracula. Twilight was just pathetic.

I mean, seriously! The guy was over one hundred and still a virgin? That just doesn't happen! And don't get me started on werewolves! I couldn't stand them, but then I couldn't stand dogs. I was definitely a cat person.

I looked up at him again to immediately look away. He was staring at me! Oh wait, he probably can't see me through the bookshelves. I sighed and took a peak at him again to find him staring at his paper with a face of complete concentration. You helpless fool. Of course he wasn't looking at you.

The song on my iPod changed to a song of My Chemical Romance, a band that he just happened to be in. Okay, so it wasn't chance, but they were really good. Helena filled my ears and I began to hum along, unconsciously.

What I was studying was no longer words just sitting on a paper that my glazed eyes looked at, but sentences and equations. I really hated Geometry. It wasn’t hard at all like how my classmates complained, no, it was easy and the teacher went way too slow. He also had the worst name a teacher could ever ask for-Mr. Ditsworth. I knew he got teased when he was in school; kids make fun of him now.

Boredom finally got the best of me and I went to the computers. I was one of those kids who loved to read and write, so what did I have to do? I had to go onto my favorite writing site to check for any updates because I'm a dork.

The story I was checking up on was a Joker fan-fiction, and really good. "Is that what I think it is?" a voice came from my right, a slender finger poking my side.

"Holy shit!" I gasped, whipping my head to my right. It was him. His huge black glasses rimmed his gorgeous hazel eyes, he was wearing an Anthrax tee, black skinny jeans and classic black converse that were new. Probably to replace the last pair that had the sole falling off, I thought to myself.

"Is that what I think it is?" he repeated excitedly. Clearly he had coffee recently, but where did this confidence come from? He has never openly talked to someone he didn't know before.

"Umm, maybe," I replied oh so smartly. "What do you think it is?"

"When Harley Left the Joker?" he asked animatedly.

"Why yes, yes it is," I replied like the dork I was. He smiled slightly at me and I returned the favor. "What's your favorite part?"

"Mine's when she-" he began but was cut off.

An announcement rang through the speakers, "Five minutes until the library closes!"

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. "I'm going to be late! Bye!"

"Oh, um, ok..." I replied dejectedly as he ran off.

As I walked home, ever so slowly, I thought about what could have happened. I could have asked him out or vice versa or something. Too late now. "Mom! I'm home!" I shouted as I walked to my room.

"Okay, dinner is about ready!" she shouted back. But I didn't care; I wasn't hungry.

"I'm not hungry! I think I'm just going to go to bed!" I replied, flopping myself onto my bed.

"What?!" she thundered. I could hear her shoes smacking against the tile floor.

"You heard me," I muttered to myself just before my door opened.

"Why aren't you eating dinner?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

"I don't feel well."

I sat at the table, my fork playing with my food. She said that I had to at least sit at the table, which pissed me off. I just wanted some solitude. Is that so much to ask for?

But now I'm being bitchy. "Hey, Mom?" I asked cautiously.

"Yeah?"

"Can I go to the Homecoming Dance?"

"Did someone ask you?" I knew it. I knew she would ask me that.

"No, but I thought it'd be fun to go to at least one Homecoming in my High School career," I replied, making sure to look at my plate.

"Fine, but only if all of your homework and chores are done," she replied with an air of superiority. I knew she was going to make a deal.

"Okay!" I agreed quickly, put my plate in the sink, and dashed to my room.

I didn’t have any girlfriends, no one to call to tell about my problems or crushes or successes. I had had one a couple of years ago, but she moved away and we lost contact over the years. But right now I really needed a best friend to talk to.

I was going to ask him today, five days before the dance. Over the course of the past week since the library we had acknowledged each other and made small talk in the halls.

He was no longer a loner since his band formed, which made me less nervous because I knew he’d at least know how to talk to a girl…I hope.

Looking around the corner, I saw him fumbling with his lock. I then took one unsteady step forward, and another, and another, and fell flat on my face. Smooth. Just fucking smooth!

“You okay?” he asked, looking down at me and offering me his hand.

“Yeah, thanks,” I replied, taking his hand and blushing. I found it comforting that he blushed too. But the realization sunk in and let go immediately and stood up. “So, I, um, was wondering if you maybe, uh, wanted to go to Homecoming with me,” I rushed out.

“What?” he asked me, frozen in his position, his face becoming red.

“Would you go to Homecoming with me?” I repeated slowly, my face reddening quickly.

“Uh…”

I looked down at the ground in disappointment. So he doesn’t after all. “Oh, ok. I’ll see you later th-”

“What he means to say and doesn’t know how to say is: yes. Mikey here hasn’t shut up about you for the past week,” Gerard cut in with a wicked grin. “Something about having the same interests and how gorgeous you are…”

“Gee!” Eloise chastised. “Stop, you’re embarrassing them.” And it was true; we were both beet red.

“I-I,” Mikey began but couldn’t finish.

“Come on, Mikey, you can do it. At this rate she’ll be two hundred by the time you tell her ‘yes’,” Frank said with a smirk. Oh God, were they all watching?!

Mikey gave them hard glares and I began to slink away. This was too embarrassing. “Yes, Grey.” I froze in my spot. HE JUST SAID YES!

I knew I gave a goofy grin. “Sweet!”

“Hey, we were just headed to practice, you wanna join?” Sian asked me from where she was standing next to Frank. Mikey’s eyes instantly lit up and I knew I wouldn’t be able to say no.

“Of course.”

Two hours and twelve embarrassing stories about Mikey later, I was lying on the floor, gasping for air. “It’s not funny!” Mikey whined.

“‘Mickey! Oh, Mickey! Mickey wants you to kiss his unicorn, Gee!’” I mimicked.

“Hey!” he shouted. “You’re supposed to be on my side!” he whined again while coming to my side and poking it.

“Ach!” I yelped and jumped about twenty feet in the air. “That’s not nice! I’m ticklish!” I playfully glared. “Oh, fuck,” I whispered at my mistake when I saw his devious grin. I just told him I was ticklish. “NO!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, running for my life.

“Come back here, you little crazy person!” He gave chase.

"I'm not little, I'm fun-sized," I pouted.

“He soooooooooooo likes her,” Frank said in a weirdly girly voice. That made us all, except for Mikey, stop and stare at him. “What?”

“Got you!” Mikey gasped, tickling my sides.

“No!” I gasped out. “S-st-stop, please!”

He didn’t stop.

I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection in amazement. I was wearing a dark blue halter dress that had slight cleavage, but not much, and was tight around my waist but flowed out like icing toward the bottom. It was a nice contrast to my pale skin. I had silver kitten heels on my feet.

My dark brown almost black hair was loosely held up by a white flower comb and about a thousand bobby pins skillfully hidden, thanks to my mom. My lips were painted a dark scarlet and my eye shadow purple. The ice blue of my eyes was bold against all of my dark colors.

It was safe to say that I was satisfied with my appearance, which is something I rarely thought about.

The doorbell rang. “Honey, Mikey is here!” my mom yelled.

“Comin’!”

“Alright you two, get closer. I want pictures,” Mom demanded.

“Mom,” I whined.

“Oh, shush.” Mikey smirked at me and I glared. “Come on, give me real smiles.”

After being blinded too many times to count, we were finally able to leave.

“W-wanna dance?” Mikey stuttered.

“Of course I would, Mikey,” I smiled, holding out my hand. We danced and danced and danced, only stopping to get drinks and using the restroom.

“Grey?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes?”

“Would you be my girlfriend?” He was blushing madly now and I can’t say I wasn’t.

But instead of answering, I pulled myself up and planted a gentle kiss on his lips. He tasted really sweet and like…coffee.

“I take that’s a yes?” he asked me when we broke apart.

“No, it means I was just kissing you for the hell of it,” I remarked sarcastically.

“You never know,” he joked.

“Of course it means yes!” I exclaimed.

“Good, ‘cause now I can do this more,” he replied with an uncharacteristic smirk before leaning down to kiss me again.

“Finally!” Gee muttered from behind me and I just giggled.

“Shut up,” Mikey mumbled.

We went through the rest of high school with ups and downs, but I can happily say that our relationship is strong right now. The band just went on tour, so it’s just us girls. We stuck together with everything. When each of us had a fall out, we were there. It was embarrassing when Mikey found out who my favorite band was because it seemed so cheesy, but I couldn’t help it. I’m a freshman in college and we have been together for three years. Somehow we manage it.


End file.
